Aaron Brooks Wolters
Brigadier General
I don't know if this has been posted before. If it has I apologize. A very good friend of mine sent it to me today. I don't know how true it is or if it's true at all, but I was very moved by it. It may be just a hoax, if so, let me know.
The Black Lab....
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie
as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was
clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.
I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere
I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and
open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the
street.
But something was still missing as I attempte d to
settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog
couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local
news. The shelter said they had received numerous
calls right after, but they said the people who had come
down to see him just didn't look like "Lab
people," whatever that meant. They must've
thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me
in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog
pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis
balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous
owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off
when we got home. We struggled for two weeks which is
how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his
new home. Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to
adjust too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis
balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in
his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked
boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need
all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he
settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon
that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he
knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and
"come" and "heel," and he'd follow
them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to
listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my
direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then
he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd
ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly
obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a
couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little
too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.
The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two
weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search
mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I
remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest
room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the
"dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the
shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys
from the shelter.. I tossed the pad in Reggie's
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most
enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But
then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come
here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he
sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared"
is more accu rate - and then gave a discontented sigh and
flopped down. With his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I
thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I
had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay,
Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if
your previous owner has any advice.".........
To
Whoever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm
happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter
could only be opened by Reggie's new owner.
I'm not even happy writing it. If you're
reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride
with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He
knew something was different. I have packed up his pad
and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip,
but this time... it's like he knew something was
wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have
to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in
the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with
you.
First, he loves tennis balls.
the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part
squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always
has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in
there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't
matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be
careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made
that mistake once, and it almost cost him
dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the
shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them
again: Reggie knows the obvious ones -
"sit," "stay," "come,"
"heel." He knows hand signals:
"back" to turn around and go back when you put
your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your
hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking
water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He
does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet
you could work on that with him some more. He knows
"ball" and "food" and "bone"
and "treat" like nobody's
business.
The Black Lab....
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie
as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was
clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.
I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere
I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and
open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the
street.
But something was still missing as I attempte d to
settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog
couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to.
And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local
news. The shelter said they had received numerous
calls right after, but they said the people who had come
down to see him just didn't look like "Lab
people," whatever that meant. They must've
thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me
in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog
pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis
balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous
owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off
when we got home. We struggled for two weeks which is
how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his
new home. Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to
adjust too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis
balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in
his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked
boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need
all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he
settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon
that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he
knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and
"come" and "heel," and he'd follow
them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to
listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my
direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then
he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd
ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly
obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a
couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little
too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.
The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two
weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search
mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I
remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest
room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the
"dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the
shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys
from the shelter.. I tossed the pad in Reggie's
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most
enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But
then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come
here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he
sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared"
is more accu rate - and then gave a discontented sigh and
flopped down. With his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I
thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I
had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay,
Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if
your previous owner has any advice.".........
To
Whoever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm
happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter
could only be opened by Reggie's new owner.
I'm not even happy writing it. If you're
reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride
with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He
knew something was different. I have packed up his pad
and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip,
but this time... it's like he knew something was
wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have
to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in
the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with
you.
First, he loves tennis balls.
the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part
squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always
has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in
there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't
matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be
careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made
that mistake once, and it almost cost him
dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the
shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them
again: Reggie knows the obvious ones -
"sit," "stay," "come,"
"heel." He knows hand signals:
"back" to turn around and go back when you put
your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your
hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking
water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He
does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet
you could work on that with him some more. He knows
"ball" and "food" and "bone"
and "treat" like nobody's
business.
